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** WARNING/DISCLAIMER/LEGAL SHIT** This post IS controversial – it is MY blog – and MY opinion – you are under NO obligation to read it. You are welcome to your own dissenting opinion however – ANY verbal keyboard hero bashing will result in mutes/blocks/deletes/ass whoopins.

I tend to keep my mouth shut – especially in social media – when it comes to certain political views – not because I don’t think my opinions aren’t worth standing up for – but because I choose to be tolerant of the fact that my friends have opinions different from mine. I may not agree with them – but they have a right to their opinion.

I am, conservative – I used to say Republican until Donald Trump became a part of that picture – so I’ll just stick with conservative. My faith teaches me that some things – some ways of life are right – and others are wrong. However, my faith also teaches me to lead with love – to not judge – to show mercy, forgiveness, tolerance and love in all that I do and say. Do I always succeed at that? Hell no, I’m human and from time to time, my backwoods, country, redneck, southern momma mouth opens before I can think first and all hell breaks loose.

I am blessed to have an incredibly special friend who has agreed to let me call him out by name for this post because we share a very unique and fairly incredible relationship. John Harrison and I are so different in our political views it’s like the difference in a Yankee’s and Southerner’s ideas of sweet tea or grits and gravy. (No offense to y’all Northern folks – we know ya’ll don’t know better :P) John posts a LOT to Facebook – he uses it as an open forum to share his opinion and raise awareness for the issues he feels are important to him which is smart – he can reach a large amount of people in a short amount of time. Admittedly, a good portion of the time, I skim past his posts because 1) in the right mood, it’s difficult for me to keep my mouth shut (or fingers still as the case may be) and not start crap on his wall (which by the way – is just rude – it’s his wall – his opinion he’s entitled to that) and 2) a lot of the time I want to thump him in the head.

That being said – what makes our relationship so very special is that despite the fact we are polar opposites on most political subjects – in the times I simply cannot stop myself from replying to one of his posts – regardless of who else is involved in the replies and being an ass of unworldly proportions – John and I always – and i mean ALWAYS – find our way to keeping our discussion civil (although a bit heated a few times) agree to disagree and remember that at the end of it all – our friendship is more important than a keyboard battle.

To me, that shows his tolerance and acceptance that my opinions are different from his – it doesn’t necessarily make me a bad person (a person with bad moments perhaps) it just makes my opinions different than his. y’all read that last part again. Go ahead – read it again. Neither of us are bad, or at fault for the horrible things that happen in this world because our OPINIONS are different.

Now that I’ve laid all the ground work for you…let’s move on to what I’ve been keeping my mouth shut about lately… y’all buckle up and settle in.

Let’s talk about this whole “Stop the Hate” thing going around. It comes rearing its ugly head after anything not so great happens in our nation. Our ENTIRE country is so quick to point a finger to who and what they think is to blame that it makes the speed of light look slow. People blame it on racism – whether it’s skin color or sexual orientation – they blame it on gun control (or lack thereof), they blame it on underprivileged households raising less that stellar human beings – they blame it on welfare – or lack of welfare – they blame it on the economy, the minimum wage – there’s a list of people and things to blame longer than the Man’s Guide to Understanding Women.

Everyone throws up their hands and screams STOP THE HATE!…and yet…as I silently sit back and watch the posts, the tweets, the interviews – it is those same people who continue to perpetuate the same hate they so desperately want to stop. A giant cirlce of hate that seems to have no end at all. I read the posts after the recent tragedy in Orlando from members of the LGBT community “We don’t want your thoughts and prayers – you weren’t there for us before – don’t be there for us now”…. after a young child dies after an alligator attack and the official cause of death was listed as drowning “Only really the Gator didn’t eat him is because he was white and unseasoned” How does that help stop the hate? How do comments and posts like that help at ALL?

At what point in our society – did we stop taking responsibility for our own actions (note, I said actions, not opinions) and blaming everybody else? Why do we have to lump every single black person (or white person or hispanic person or gay person or transgender person take your pick on skin color/ethnicity/sexual orientation) into one big group and decide they ALL suck? If you buy a bag of apples from the store and a couple of them are rotten – you don’t decide EVERY SINGLE APPLE you EVER encounter for the rest of your life is rotten…. so why do we do that with people???

You want to blame someone for the Orlando Massacre? How about we try pointing the finger at a society who in general – raises its children to think they are entitled because they simply showed up at the game of Life. How about we go back to “it takes a village to raise a child” and start holding people accountable – REGARDLESS of race/ethnicity/sexual orientation. How about instead of trying so hard to keep from hurting someone’s feelings because they don’t get their way because they’re white/black/hispanic/chinese/gay/trans/a pink unicorn – we go back to standing up for what’s right and wrong based on the constitution that governs us and if it hurts someone’s feelings – they can learn to live with a little butthurt or find someplace else to live?

Want to post your outrage/disgust/anger on social media or a public forum? Good for you! You throw it out there for the world to see – you don’t get to get pissed when people disagree! You are allowed to say “Nope, you can’t be a dick in asserting your opinion on my page/tweet/feed” – but you know what else? YOU SHOULDN’T BE A DICK WHEN GIVING YOUR OPINION EITHER. Want to bitch about all the haters? Good for you! DON’T stoop to their level and be the exact same kind of hater right back at them.

We are not white/black/hispanic/straight/gay/trans/pink unicorns – we are HUMAN BEINGS – those that live in this country (legally) are AMERICANS – FFS people – get over yourselves. I mean REALLY – get OVER yourselves. We are ALL special – we are ALL important – we ALL have value – we are ALL worthy – quit lumping people into categories because they don’t look/behave/sound/say/sing/sign things JUST THE WAY YOU WANT IT. You want people to show tolerance for your opinion/lifestyle – try showing the same to them. You want to stop the hate? Stop spewing it in the same breath you beg for it to stop.

There will always be evil in this world – Eve made sure of that when she bit into the apple (and I hope it gave her indigestion and fire ass too). Every horrible thing that happens cannot be blamed on white/black/pick your color/ethnicity/sexual orientation. Horrible things happen because human beings make evil choices. We’ll never be able to stop that – just the same as I can’t change my choice to be straight or someone else’s choice to be gay or the same way I can’t change being a white female or someone else can’t change being a black man. What we CAN do – is worth together – to put more love and tolerance in the world than people with bad choices – by leading by example – by showing love and tolerance instead of simply demanding it from everyone else.

It is in the weird fucked up hours between midnight and the rising of the sun that some of my mind’s deepest thoughts come alive. More often than not, I tend to not share these grand illusions of epiphanies because usually it seems they only make sense to me.

This one however, amidst the love and hate of posts of refugees, discrimination, racism and political shenanigans, this one seemed worthy.

Monday, on my way home from wishing my rl mother a happy birthday, I stopped for a red light, half paying attention to the traffic around me, half listening to my son discuss the merits of particular weapon in his new xbox game and partially pondering logging into SL when I got home to see my family. As I looked across from me, it occurred to me to think to myself “what an idiot” as I watched a small sedan pull speedily in front of a tractor trailer.

And then, in a moment that surely only took milliseconds but seemed like eternity, I watched that small sedan slam on his brakes for the red light we were all sitting at and that same tractor trailer, not able to stop quite as quick with an unexpected vehicle in front of it, crush into the back of it. I watched the sedan lurch forward from the impact and the body eject through the windshield in an explosion of glass, arch into the air and land about ten feet and just to the left of the front of my car, much like a ragdoll a child had haphazardly thrown when they were done playing.

I am not a nurse, or doctor or first responder – I am just a mom – just a person- tired from work and ready to be home but some sense of…something… propelled me from my car, phone in hand, dialing 911 as I took the two steps to the young man laying on the ground. Even now, I couldn’t tell you what race or nationality he was. I couldn’t tell you anything about him – and none of it mattered – he was a HUMAN BEING – fighting for his life. As I talked to the 911 operator in the calmest voice I think I have ever used in my life, I gave my location, what I had seen, what I was looking at. “No I don’t know his age, No I don’t know any of his medical conditions, Yes there is a pulse – shallow and weak but there – no response to voice or light stimuli – Airway is open and unrestricted- No I have not attempted cpr without knowing of internal injuries – No his chest is not moving – I have no idea if there are other passengers….” I answered the questions like a robot as I described the lacerations to his face arms and chest, the odd angle of his right leg, the protruding bone from his ankle and somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the sirens as they rolled up and the warmth of an officer’s hand as he gently pulled me away.

I turned then, looking into my car at the look on my son’s face – blank and wide eyed as he had watched and refused to turn around while I heard the gurney come out of the ambulance and the count to lift the body I knew in my heart was now empty of any soul. It wasn’t until some moments later, when the questions has been answered, the reports had been completed and I had been sent along my way, trying to hold myself together in front of my son that he asked me the first question. “Mom, why didn’t anyone else get out to help?”

I didn’t know how to answer him – I didn’t HAVE an answer to that. At what point, did we stop being human? At what point did people become afraid to care? When did we stop caring about the preciousness of human life? ALL of those people sitting in traffic – None of them could be bothered to leave their cars to see if anyone else was in the car with him? To check on the truck driver? Did they sit there and bitch about the inconvenience or were they scared to see up close what was happening – or maybe they were saying a prayer of thanks that it wasn’t them – or maybe- as we see far too often – they sat there because it “wasn’t their business”. It didn’t matter if anyone knew him or not, who he was, what color he was, what religion he practiced or what country he came from. He was someone’s son- he was a human being with value, with purpose and in the flash of an eye…. he was gone. He laid on the asphalt – conscious or not we’ll never know – we’ll never know if he was even aware there was anyone there or if he was already too gone to even know what happened – but in those last breaths – whether with me or the paramedics and officers that responded – he was not alone.

It took my husband to remind me of that last part. A hero of a man who has been in that situation more times than I would ever want to count, who when I finally logged into SL and blurted out what had happened, held me and comforted me while I struggled to deal with what is felt when you watch the loss of human life up close, reminded me that I had accomplished the most important thing… that whatever moment it was that young man passed between this world and whatever world he went to – he wasn’t alone.

My son asked me this morning, if the young man had made it through that wreck ok. As much as my heart had told me the night before he did not, I never had turned to see if they pulled the sheet over his face and in the most honest answer I could muster, I told him that I didn’t know for sure but would find out. When I called this morning, the local Police Department confirmed what my heart knew, he was gone by the time the paramedics got there. Multiple internal injuries too severe for him to hold on his own until help arrived. An aspiring medical student at our local “teaching hospital”, he was alone in his car heading to his residency shift. Alone in this town he had moved to only about 6 months prior only knowing the people he worked with. His family had been contacted and they were waiting for the arrival to identify and claim the body.

I sat in my car and cried as I hit the “end call” button. A bad decision with a tragic outcome took away a life with so much potential. In his hurry to help others, he had sacrificed himself in the worst of ways.

Love each other. It doesn’t matter what our backgrounds are – who our parents were, what mistakes we’ve made with our life or what struggles we fight and overcome – we are human – all of us – Fate doesn’t chose a religion or race or country to take a life. Cherish every single moment we have and make sure the ones around you know you have a heart. Be kind to each other – don’t be afraid to care – don’t be afraid to give a damn about another life – don’t be afraid to be human again.

Where I live in the South, it rarely gets cold enough to really use a fireplace if you have one. It’s not uncommon to see people in the mild winter with windows open so they can use their fireplace for a cozy evening. Admittedly, I am guilty of the same, especially around the holidays.

I can’t help it really, I love to watch a wood burning fire. The roar when it’s built up well and it’s full and warm, the loveliest shades of red, orange and yellow and the smell of the wood as it gives its last breath. I can sit for hours and watch it, consume all that makes it what it is as the flames start to slowly subside – the heat coming from it is still hot as it surrounds me even though the flames are small, the crackling quieter and it looks like it’s about to give up and die. Another log or two and again, it flares up proudly and I can watch the flames dance in victory in front of me.

Long after the flames are gone and nothing but the cool ashes remain – it’s time for clean-up. The first time I ever tried to clean my fireplace – there were more ashes and mess on me and in the living room than I ever thought has been in the fireplace itself – it was – a disaster. I learned over the years, with trial and error, the best ways to clean it up so I could start again and see the flames – feel the heat – but it took a lot of mess for me to perfect the process.

If you live in the South, you know there really isn’t a fall season in some places – it’s simply about two weeks of a transition from “Hot as Hell” and “Thank Fuck for a Break in the Heat”. So now, just a bit early, you see people getting ready cleaning chimneys and getting ready – and I am doing the same in great anticipation of the weather change that hopefully will come soon.

It occurs to me, as I begin this yearly ritual, that there have been relationships in my life that are much the same – all consuming, burning feverishly with an intensity like nothing I’ve ever known – they are, on their own terms – a beautiful disaster.

As one of these relationships has ended and now some weeks later, I am finally not afraid to sit back and reflect on it without the tears streaming that have helped extinguish the flames of destruction, I look back trying to see the choices I made that indeed made it a complete disaster. Did I see things that simply were not there? Did I push too hard? Did I not push enough?

I can see my own faults in the choices I made – even in the end, when through a fit of emotion, the door was shut in my face – I didn’t try to knock and open it again. I can see where my unspoken expectations were the fans that flamed many a passionately heated argument. I don’t take all the blame on myself – there was blame for him to take as well – some that he will recognize – some that he won’t.

But when it comes right down to it, although it seems to be the best for everyone, I will miss the rush, the warmth and heat of someone that was so close both physically and mentally, the challenge to keep what was “us” confined in some way to keep from engulfing everyone around us and the intensity of the flame that he has since extinguished.

As I clean out the fireplace to ready it for another season of flames, the memories flood me the way the ashes I brush float in the air around me and I am thankful for the season I had with them, even on the days it was too hot to handle, it provided for some short time, a warmth in my soul that I will always remember.

There’s a hydrangea bush next to my back porch – old and sturdy, its blooms are gorgeous when they meet the sun each morning. When I first moved here, it had been uncared for, it was out of any sort of shape growing haphazardly, dead blooms covered the branches and thick thorny vines had grown around it – almost like a protective wall around it. It almost looked….broken.

As I started the arduous task of lawn care after buying a new home, I saved that hydrangea for last. One by one, I went around the yard, pulling weeds, trimming and caring for the plethora of plants and bushes that I uncovered as I got rid of the thorny vines that seemed to be everywhere. As the cleanup neared completion, that one sad hydrangea still waiting my attention as I watered, fertilized and cared for the camellias, the pecan trees, the crepe myrtles and azaleas.

Finally it came time to care for the hydrangea – I could almost swear it said “leave me alone” as I got close to it. Carefully, I started to trim back the thorny vines covering it. Even with gloves, I came back with scratches and marks as that one broken bush protected itself from me. For the first time, I did the one thing I used to laugh at my mother for doing…. I talked to that freakin bush. (This might have been my neighbors’ first clue that I’m a little off kilter)

As I removed it’s grown over protective barrier of thorns, I spoke softly and sang a bit, and found after, that it had been more neglected than the others, the soil beneath it dry and unyielding. The few leaves wilted and the branches tired. It seemed, it had given so much for so long, with no care in return, it was just ready to be alone in its last years but had nothing left to heal itself.

I slowly removed most of the soil from around it and replaced it with new, nutrient rich and fertilized and added some water and in that quiet morning, I think I almost heard the plant sigh with relief. Just as slowly as I removed the dying earth around it, I gently plucked the dead blooms and leaves as well as trimming around some of the branches giving it once again, its majestic shape.

I waited until the next weekend before returning to the task and was rewarded with my hard work. Each morning as I walked out onto the back deck with my coffee, a smile upon my face as I watched the yard begin to bloom. Bright pinks and reds on the camellia bushes, shoots of green in the trees, soft pinks and whites in the crepe myrtles. One by one, they all came alive again…. All except the hydrangea – it stood in its corner, naked and proud as the sun rose over it to feed it. I kept watering, adding some food and watching. The next weekend, I found the smallest of green leaves budding from its branches and I smiled to myself – it was going to find a reason to bloom again.

Another week went by and my yard was alive with colors. Birds were visiting to serenade my mornings, squirrels scampered across the thorn free ground and jumped from tree to tree. Still, the hydrangea fell behind – more green leaves, but still not the first bloom. I waited patiently and kept watering … finally, on the fourth week, I squealed in delight as I found the first little green bud popping out on a branch.

As it opened up and others followed it, I was astounded, the blooms were full and puffy, the palest shade of blue with white tips –its elegance and beauty took my breath away. One by one they began to cover the bush. I took a few tips from some others that loved hydrangeas as much as I do and began to add to the soil from a list of old wives tricks. Suddenly, within a couple of weeks, my poor broken hydrangea was tall and proud with the most incredible colors. I came home one afternoon to my neighbor standing at the fence staring at my hydrangea.

“In all the years I’ve lived next door, I’ve never seen this hydrangea do so well…. And I’ve never seen one with blooms this big in these colors”. I turned to look, from a different angle than my back porch. Her blooms almost covered the once dying bush, so many of them, branches almost hung down. What had started out as elegant and pale blue blooms had become a majestic purple, rich and deep tipped in white. I almost wanted to reach out and caress her. This plant, so broken and almost dead, had pulled herself up and become something better than she had ever been – despite being neglected and unloved.

I went inside to get my clippers and came back with a wet towel to gently clip a few blooms for my neighbor. As I did, her voice so quiet over the sound of nature around us singing, she said to me, “You’ll have to share your secret with me, I’ve never seen one so beautiful”. I stopped for a moment, wrapping the stems I had cut carefully in the wet towel and handed it to her with a very simple reply, “It only takes time…and love”. She smiled at me, took the blooms just as carefully as I had clipped them and thanked me, turning to return to her own home.

It occurred to me, later that evening, after watering and loving a bit on all my plants, trees and bushes, that maybe, we should look at the relationships in our life in the same way. We all have been broken, we have all put up thorny vines to protect our hearts. Maybe what we need is that one person who is willing to take the time to pull away the vines, who isn’t scared to get scraped by the thorns, who is patient enough to water us and help us grow – who is willing to love us as we fight the feelings of fear wondering if we will end up neglected again.

So in my attempts to focus on the positive, I’m working on (currently building) a new website/blog called “Counting Your Blessings”. In the meantime, while I work on that, I thought maybe I’d count a few blessings here too.

For anyone who has been online for any length of time, you know about the relationships you create with others – whether it’s playing something like Second Life, WOW or even just various blogs or chat rooms you visit – you get to know the people that are there often enough and it really doesn’t take long for some bonds to form.

Most of the time, we share the bad ones, the ones that betrayed us, hurt us, left us – whatever. But I think it’s high time – we started sharing the good ones – the ones you met just by chance that even though you’ve never met, never seen each other’s faces – these are the ones that lift you and hold you up, that turn the sunshine into the rain and warm your heart from the inside out.

I’m thankful and blessed to have a few people like that in my virtual life – but there’s one I want to focus on today.

She is best described as a pocket full of sunshine – she has a kind word to everyone she comes across – no matter where she is or how she feels. I remember clearly one of the first times I met her – that lil duck on her shoulder… and talking about her recent shopping trip…fat packs ftw!

I loved her immediately with her radiant personality, the way she could command attention upon entering a room and the way she could dissolve the worst of emotions and turn them to glitter and happiness with one lil “Oh sNoRt” gesture.

I didn’t know her very well back then – the most casual of conversation we had – but she was amazing to me – and then it happened one day on Facebook…. One of those randomly generated “who loves” you things that pulls from your friends list and designates who loves you best – and I became her Cherished and she became my Cherished One…. and things have never been the same since.

For as bubbly and bright as her personality is, you can tell there is some part of her that she keeps hidden from these virtual worlds and I’ve learned over time, that it is her protection mechanism. I’ve watched her grow – and blossom in this world much like a beautiful hydrangea – not just one single flower that pops up to brighten the day, but tons of blooms that burst out to capture your attention.

To watch her – become a commanding force in the SL world of photography and blogging makes me love her more, her relentless pursuit to be different, for perfection in her work and most recently her endeavor in DJing… her talent and drive never cease to amaze me.

I think though, the most amazing thing about her – is her ability to see things from a clearer perspective – she has proven to be an invaluable friend and confidant… we don’t speak every day, but the conversations we have pick up right where we left off – very much like that childhood friend that always stay a part of you no matter how many years or miles go by between the two of you. She values the people she holds close in her life and it shows in every word when you hear her speak of them.

Having her a part of my life comforts me, brings me happiness from the inside out and pushes me to strive to be better as a person and as a friend. She is truly a blessing in my life any way you look at it.

I think Facebook, in all its quirkiness, got it right…. PeepSideshow Darkward…. You absolutely are my Cherished One.

In the credit/financial world, there are times when an account can be described as either “settled” or “satisfied”. In terms of the lender looking at it, a “satisfied” account is more favorable – it means the account was paid in full as agreed. A “settled” account however, although not necessarily terribly derogatory, means that the account was paid – but not in the amount or time as originally agreed.

Those account descriptions fall right in line with Miriam Webster’s definition of the two terms:

Satisfaction: a happy or pleased feeling because of something that you did or something that happened to you

And

Settle (for): to be content with

No my Dear Ones… this is not a lesson on credit ratings, lender or financial inner peace – but, I would like to explore for a minute how we use these two words in our personal relationships.

I know a couple who has been married for about 40 plus years. To all outward glances, it is a happy marriage, you never see them fight or argue, they are always quite respectful to each other in public, he still opens doors for her and pulls out her chair and to glance at them, you would think, “I want to be that way after being with the same person that long”.

Upon a little closer inspection, you might find that they rarely actually talk unless it’s about their children or grandchildren. You might see that she only participates in the activities they share together not because she actually enjoys them, but because she feels it’s her “duty” to do so. You might even see that although he will tell you quickly how much he loves her, he’d prefer to spend his time without her because it’s easier than dealing with her. He won’t make plans for anything without talking to her first – but it is more because he likes to keep the peace in the house. You would see that although the last 40 some odd years haven’t necessarily been bad (after all, we all go through ups and downs hence the “for better or worse” in traditional wedding vows) – they have grown apart from whatever it was they were when they started and now they are more like two people going through the motions because it’s easier than starting over. There is no doubt that they care for each other and love each other – but, the sizzle is obviously gone from that pan.

So are they satisfied…. Or settling?

Are they truly “happy or pleased” with their marriage after all this time? Do they feel like they’ve accomplished all the lofty goals young married couples list out together to do in a lifetime? Or is it maybe that at this point in their life –they’re settling for good enough?

I bring this topic up because someone made a statement to me just recently that kind of stuck in my head and made me think far too much – but in a good way I believe. I’m still working on all of it – but I want to share some of it with all of you and see what crosses your mind.

Recently, in a devastating end to an rl relationship, a close friend said to me, “Maybe, if you hadn’t settled, you wouldn’t be trying to mend a broken heart.” I didn’t think much of it at the moment it was said, but later that evening, in those moments right before falling asleep, that single sentence kept floating through my mind.

Had I really settled… or was I satisfied? It took a day or two (and several Advil for the ensuing headache) as I pondered relentlessly in the difference of the two words. During the time he and I were together – I HAD felt satisfied, I WAS happy and content – or so I thought. Taking the rose colored glasses off and digging a bit deeper – into maybe the things I hadn’t wanted to contemplate before, I thought back to several conversations, several issues that had come up and how I’d dealt with them, how he’d dealt with them – how I’d felt about them and suddenly – it occurred to me….

That quiet little voice in the back of my head – you know – the one we don’t always like to listen to because it tells us things we don’t always necessarily want to hear….. If you don’t have enough confidence and love for yourself, you’ll always settle for what you THINK you deserve – not what you TRULY deserve.

Let that soak in a minute…. I’ll wait…

How often, do we look at the people and circumstances in our lives and decide “Well, maybe this is the best I can do, so I’ll just be happy with it.” When did we stop believing in ourselves – and our self-worth? What happened in our life – that convinced us – we weren’t worthy of the best? I may not have a million dollar house on the beach – but that doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of having one. And the same thing applies to our relationships – we deserve to be happy – truly happy – even if that means we learn to be happy alone and satisfied with ourselves. None of us – not a single one – deserve to settle for “good enough” with a partner or lover – we deserve to be loved and cherished – to have someone walk beside us through the good and the bad – someone who is man/woman enough to be honest – to admit to and accept responsibility for mistakes – to work through the bad times and rejoice through the good.

It doesn’t matter what happened in our past – the past is done and gone – shut the door on it – today is a new day to start again – be satisfied – don’t settle. Look around you and your life – get rid of the people that want you to settle and start finding the people – starting with yourself – that can satisfy you. Love yourself enough to know you ARE worthy and find those things in yourself and in your life that make you happy, that please you and that help you grow – not remain stagnant in the old fertilizer in your life.

Ladies, we’ve all had that day…. The day that something we ate either the night before or that day itself and the digestion of said “something” has gone HORRIBLY wrong. We sit with a smile on our face while our body clutches against itself to not allow the gaseous hell escape our bodies until we can get somewhere private to let it all out. And ohhhhh the relief when we do!

Let me just say – I aimed that at ladies because I understand that to men, the “display” of bodily functions in public is not only a talent and art, but something you spend your entire lives cultivating to share with others – so no offense intended.

I think the same applies to the emotions we hold in, the anger, hurt, hate, shame – whatever your particular demon is – and it may be all of them. Holding it in infects us, sucks the happiness out of things we would normally find joy in. It eats at us and makes us bitter, the same way something we eat doesn’t digest will in our systems. After a while of holding it all in, the pain is intense and it’s hard to see past it in our lives, everything and everyone we come in contact with seems to be affected by it and our vision of how things really are is skewed.

I think it’s important, to let these things go – not for the benefit of the one or ones that did the hurting, made us angry, gave us feelings of hate or shame – but for ourselves – but for our own inner peace. Forgive but do not forget, turn your cheek but don’t offer the other one – insert whatever old words of wisdom you like – but it amounts to the same thing:

Let it GO.

Every time you hold on to the hurt – the wrong someone has done you – you give them power –over you – over your emotions. Every time you don’t let it go – you let them hold the chain that binds you. Do you really want to give them that much power and control?? Let it GO – walk away – just because you let it go – doesn’t mean you have to allow it to happen again –it doesn’t make you weak – it makes you STRONGER.

There is an end to every beginning – that doesn’t mean the book is over – it means you’ve finished a chapter. Do you want to keep re reading it – or do you want to move on and see what else happens?

I’m not saying some well-deserved emotions aren’t allowed when your heart is broken or you’ve been hurt –have a temper tantrum (I’m famous for them myself – but trust me – make sure you know someone who is really good at sheetrock repair before you do) or sit on your pity pot…. Just don’t sit there long enough to get a ring around your ass.